Gowns, Balls, and Tears, Too
by thefirstservant
Summary: In Muggle films, it is the mother of the bride who cries. (Rabastan should have known better than to trust Muggle films.)


In a wedding, it is the mother of the bride who cries.

Rabastan knows this from the Muggle films Andromeda always made him watch, sneaking out from their respective manors to hide out in the back of a cinema like errant schoolchildren playing truant.

(Rabastan knows their parents would forgive truancy more easily. He nearly always gets caught, but Rodolphus finds him and sneaks him in with a hard swat to his backside and a dozen scoldings.)

The films are called "romcoms" - with handsome leading men, ball gowns, and many tears. Andi sighs over the men, gasps over the gowns, and cries along into an embroidered handkerchief. Rabastan prefers the ones with the explosions and shouting, as if a Potions class had gone terribly wrong.

(Andi rolls her eyes. "There are already far too many explosions in our lives, Rab."

"Too many gowns and balls, too," he points out.

Neither of them mention the ever present shouting and tears. Rabastan doesn't mind so much anyway, at least not when Rodolphus is there to close the door and wipe away the tears.)

At any rate, those films always end in weddings, and the mother of the bride always ends up in tears.

This wedding is different.

(Rabastan should have known better than to trust Muggle films.)

The mother of _this_ bride is far too poised to cry. Her stern mouth hardens further as she berates the house-elves and the workers over the color of the tablecloths, and a close look shows that her eyes are as clear as day.

Rabastan doesn't get too close though. Not today. He slinks around the shadows to return to his room to feign the illness that feels all too real.

He lies down on his bed and buries himself beneath his duvet. His pillow is good at hiding tears, if there are any traitorous ones that fall too fast for him to catch.

Rabastan lies down there for a while, face down on his cool pillow. He'd been dreading this day steadily since the engagement was announced, far too soon for his comfort. There is already a keen sense of longing and loss, and the wedding was still hours away.

"Rab?"

His pillow, it seems, is not as good at hiding him from his brother.

Rabastan closes his eyes and tries to even his breathing. He hears a small sigh before the door clicks shut. The duvet is lifted and a warm weight settles down beside him, forehead to chest, stomach to hip, and legs tangled together at the end of the bed.

A hand settles soothingly on his back while another cards through his hair. Rabastan tries not to curl into his touch and stubbornly keeps his eyes shut and practices his deep breathing.

"I know you're awake, Rab." Shit. "Just- just come here, okay?"

Rabastan breaks easily, turning over to press his face into Rod's chest and curling his fist into the back of his brother's good shirt, willing away the dampness in his eyes.

The brother of the groom is not allowed to cry.

Rodolphus nestles him closer, resting his chin on top of his head. "You're getting too old to cuddle, you know" he admonishes. "13 is far too big."

Rabastan ignores him. It was all his fault anyway. For as long as Rabastan could remember, he had been taught by his parents and tutors to keep his distance, teaching him to walk about with a cold expression, jutting his chin out malevolently.

Rod had treated him differently, however, keeping him close and doling out hugs and affectionate touches as soon as their parents turned their backs. Rod didn't believe in looking and acting cold all the time - in public, yes, in private, no.

So it was probably ironic that he was marrying into a family that was even more stand-offish than their own.

"I don't want you to marry her," he whispers into Rod's chest.

Rod's hand goes still on his back. There's a pause, and then Rabastan hears his brother sigh, before moving downwards on the bed to look at Rabastan face-to-face.

"Rab," Rodolphus begins gently. "I have to marry Bella."

"No, you don't," he says.

(If Rabastan is obstinate and a brat, it's Rodolphus's fault, too. Mother always said he coddled him too much.)

"Yes, I do." Rod says firmly. "I know you think I'm too young to get married, but Mother and Father think Bella and I are ready to enter a new life together. I'm lucky that they chose someone I'm familiar with, rather than a stranger we only meet in grand balls."

Rab swallows and hides his face again in Rod's chest. "I won't be welcome in your new life."

"Of course you will!" Rodolphus pulls away to look him in the face. "Whoever said you wouldn't be?"

"Bella doesn't like me. She says I'm a sissy Hufflepuff." Bella had said worse things than that, but Rabastan didn't want to repeat them. Especially not to Rod.

(He might think she's right.)

Rod chuckled. "That's just the way Bella talks. I know you're used to Andi, but not everyone's as sweet as she is, especially not among the Blacks."

Rabastan didn't particularly think of Andi as sweet. Fierce and opinionated, maybe. But never sweet.

"And you can stand to be a little braver, Rab," he continued. "Not enough to be an idiotic Gryffindor, of course, but just enough to stand your ground a bit more."

Rabastan loosened his grip on his brother. They weren't married yet but Bella was already turning Rod away from him.

"Who's - who's going to keep me from getting into trouble with Father and Mother if you'll be moving in with Bella?" Rab tries not to whine.

"I suppose you're going to have to stay out of trouble yourself then," Rod smiles, rubbing his head. "It's not like you're a wild hellion, you know. You hardly ever get into trouble."

"Only because you keep me out of it," Rab whispers.

Rod hugs him close, squeezing tightly once before letting him go. "You'll be fine, Rabastan. And if you ever need me, I'll just be a Floo Call away, okay? None of this "not being welcome" business. You'll always be my baby brother far longer than Bella will ever be my wife," he smiles down at him before leaning over to whisper teasingly. "You have the head start on her, and she'll never be able to catch up."

(He doesn't think that's true. Bella always won.)

Rabastan smiles weakly. "Okay, Roddy."

"Good." Rodolphus hops out of bed. "Now, come on now. We have to get ready before the guests arrive." He offers his hand to help him up, like always.

Rabastan takes it, like always.

But somehow, it feels like always is about to end.

...

Rabastan tries not to fidget in his place beside Rodolphus in front of the small man at the altar. He's always been good at staying still, but being in front of such a large crowd makes him nervous, and his nervousness shows.

His mother tries to frown him into smiling submission, and at the far end of the church, he sees Andi try to sneak him a funny face, and gets swatted by her mother for her trouble.

The Black family is fierce and powerful, down to the last woman - an entity his brother would soon be part of.

Rabastan swallows hard. There's no chance he's not looking nervous now.

Rodolphus seems above it all - cold expression carefully in place, miles away from the smiling brother he had been just hours before. Rodolphus was an honourable, proper heir, a seventeen year-old man ready to meet his wife.

The music begins, the crowd rises, and Bella steps into the church, haughty even under her veil. Her eyes seem to zero onto Rabastan, and her smile curls into a familiar mocking expression.

Rabastan ducks his head reflexively, before raising it again hastily at the pointed look his mother gave him. He glances at Bella again, and her smile seems even more feral now.

He looks up at Rod for reassurance, but Rodolphus didn't seem to notice, smiling minutely as he watched Bella and her father walk steadily down the aisle.

Each step forward felt like a physical push away for Rabastan. He swallows hard one last time an settles his face into an expressionless mask, like Rodolphus had coached him a hundred times over.

In a wedding, it is the mother of the bride who cries.

The vows begin and end. The mothers do not cry.

In the face of their triumph, they feel no loss.

...

The brother of the groom is not allowed to cry.

Rabastan sneaks out to do so anyway.

(This time, Rodolphus doesn't find him, doesn't even try.)

* * *

><p>AN: This was written for The Marauder's Era Competition (Round Five) on HPFC. The prompt was "Rabastan Lestrange loses something (or someone) of value to him." The words _jutting, fast, illness, entity, _and_ close_ needed to be used as well.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated. I'm a little nervous because I've never written the Lestranges before. It's been more than two years since I've last posted anything. I hope to post more stories soon. Until then, take care!

**Thought of the day: **The relationship is purely platonic on the author's part. I just perceive young Rabastan to be particularly reliant on his older brother. I've always supposed that the Lestrange brothers were close, and that Rabastan was a bit of a follower, given how nervous he looked at their trial. I'd love to know what you think about this and about the fic, too! :)


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